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“You scared me half to death,” I scold when he sits down. He’s wearing dark-wash jeans and a black puffer vest over a cream-colored Henley. I resist the urge to ask who dressed him because he looks good.

“Were you talking to yourself?” he asks.

“No way.” I make a pfft sound as if I can’t believe he’d even suggest such a thing. “I don’t talk to myself.”

“You totally were, weren’t you? Alright. Lay it on me. Let me hear the Beth Collins gold.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You used to give the best rah-rah speeches. Like money in the bank.”

“I did not!”

“You did. Don’t lie and say you don’t remember high school, before Jack’s and my football games. You’d sit us both down and talk strategy and then demand we play our best. Your pep talks were legendary.”

Now I’m blushing. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Are you kidding? You used to make us laugh and scare the—well, the you-know-what out of us all at once. It was almost impossible to take you seriously when you wore those reindeer-antler headbands.”

“I only wore them because they were part of the marching band’s uniform,” I argue.

“Not true.”

“They were!”

“Only the school-issued ones in Dasher Valley High colors were part of your uniform. You had a ton more.”

“Not that many.”

He puts up a finger as he starts to make a list. “The ones with the jingle bells.”

“Those are festive. Perfect for the holiday season. A lot of people have those,” I argue.

“The furry brown pair.”

“Those are cozy! They had built in earmuffs for the dead of winter.”

“The ones with the holly berries attached to the center piece.”

“Classy.”

“The super tall ones.” He grins at me. “I feel like you always wore those when you wanted to really intimidate us.”

“Not my fault that God blessed my brother with all the height in the family and left me down here to survive amongst the hobbits. I had to use whatever I could find to give me a leg up.”

“An antler up, you mean.”

“Very funny. You’ve made your point.”

“But we didn’t even get to my favorite pair.” He points at me. “The ones with the gold sequins. They were so fancy.”

“Well, duh.” I stick up my chin. “You never know when you need to be a fancy reindeer.”

“That’s what I always say,” he deadpans, and I reach across the car to shove his shoulder.

“I still have my collection of those. I figure they might come in handy someday.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Gabe chuckles. “With or without the antlers, the only reason Jack and I played so well is because of your pregame speeches.”